Of Sunflowers and Swords
by Self-san
Summary: The Ronin, The Vagabond, and The Sunflower Girl. Drabbles.
1. Stay

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, but I was dissatisfied with the ending of SC, so I decided to go on with it some. There also seems to be a distinct lack of Jin/Fuu/Mugen to read, the only pairing that I think fits in this fandom.

* * *

_Stay_

* * *

She was pretty, she supposed, if only in an everyday-sorta-girl pretty. She was no great beauty, she knew. No matter what Mugen said, she wasn't _that_ naïve.

That being the case, "Why were such two obviously good looking and talented men traveling with her?" was a smart question to ask. They easily could have left her and sold themselves as experienced swords for hire.

It still confused her that they didn't. Honestly, what were they getting from her that they couldn't get easily elsewhere? Not the sex, certainly, and they were always complaining about her company, so…

Why did they bother to stick by her? Pulling her out of trouble when she needed them to? Warming her futon most nights?

Fuu wasn't deaf, either.

'_How strange,' _others murmured as they saw Mugen, Jin, and her walk to the nearest inn and order a room. If the town was particularly small, the fact that they only ordered one room would get around by the end of the night.

Without fail.

.

Unbeknown to most, even their fellow traveling partners, the two men wondered over these thoughts almost ever night. Her small body lay willingly trapped between their embraces, hands fisting hair and clothes, uncaring to the fact that they were practiced killers, thieves, and fighters.

As they lay there, their warm breaths falling and mingling on her head, they wondered why they weren't already alone again. Their eyes connect over her still form and they portrayed a silent message, a question that neither had an answer for, and probably never would.

_Why are we still here?_

It was something that they acknowledged having no answer on, and, as they lay there, their hearts pressing together in that soothing, _blump, blump, blump_, they decided that they were better of not asking and not knowing.

Sighing silently at her shivers, they moved closer together, their calloused hands brushing as they tucked the girl closer to them, their heat mingling as they lay on that single futon in the small, dark room of yet another inn that they were sleeping in.

It was at times like this that they admitted to themselves that they were afraid. Afraid of what would happen to her should they leave, afraid that they didn't have the strength to leave, and afraid that they wouldn't ever want to.

Together, forever. The Ronin, the Vagabond, and the Girl-child of the samurai that smelled of sunflowers.

They were truthful to themselves at least, if only in the quiet of their minds and the darkness of the room in which they lay…They figured that that was good enough for them now.

'_I don't want to go.'_


	2. XXX

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

**Warnings**: Indecency while in bed! Implied threesome!

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_XXX_

* * *

Shifting slightly she shivered, happy when they curled themselves more firmly around her. They were both large and warm…and they were _both still awake_.

Fuu sighed internally, unwilling to break the silence of the room but exasperated with their need to see her asleep _before_ themselves. Freeing her hand from beneath her body, she let it lay on the hand that Jin had over her waist. Both of the men stilled.

Fuu paid it no mind, already used to the reaction of her initiating touch, and interlaced her fingers with his.

Her small hand fit easily within his own, her calluses brushing his. True, his were more extensive and in different places than hers, but she'd grown up a working girl, and had her own calluses.

Running her thumb over the one in the bend of his thumb she noticed that his hand was cold.

Fuu ignored it but to tuck it into the loose fold of her sleeping robe, favoring to open her eyes and stare blindly at Mugen's throat, her other hand crawling to rest under his shirt and over his heart. His skin was warm, almost feverish. It was a stark contrast from Jin's ice cube of a hand, leeching heat from the soft skin of her stomach. It slowly warmed, pressed against her.

Fuu sighed in contentment, realizing too late that it was _that _sigh. The sigh that drove both men up the wall.

_Yep_, she thought as she felt both fighting to remain still, growing hardness's pressing into her back and stomach. _That sigh was the _one.

Not that she minded it really. She like Jin and Mugen.

_No_, Fuu corrected herself, _I __**love **__Jin and Mugen. _

And she did. Even when they didn't share her and when they fought over whose day it was, Jin's quiet voice filled with ice as he regarded Mugen with glacial eyes; Mugen's eyes hot and heavy as he yelled and cursed and glared at Jin. Both would insist that it was _their _day and the other could go shove it.

(They had never asked her to decide whose day it was, and for that, she was grateful.)

Wondering if they were going to move anytime soon, Fuu figured that she should take it into her own hands. A smile tweaked at her lips.

Leaning her head forward, she breathed a puff of hot air onto Mugen's neck, her lips lightly tracing themselves against his skin. She felt his shudder and Jin's free hand grip tightly at her hip, immediately releasing it when she squirmed.

Fuu squeezed his hand. Jin always thought that he would break her. In fact, it was an annoying trait of both Jin and Mugen.

_Damn them_, she thought hotly.

_Even if _she ended up with bruises at the end of the night, she didn't mind it. She _wanted_ it, wanted _them_. All of them, including that amazing strength that both possessed.

_Couldn't they see that? _Fuu wondered, biting down lightly on the taut, tan skin below her mouth.

Faintly, she heard the quiet, breathy moan that Jin gave mixing in with Mugen's throaty one. They were fully hard now and she shivered in anticipation as she darted her tongue forward to lick Mugen's neck, a slight apology.

And…now that she had both of them going, she knew that she _was_ going to get what she wanted.

That being both of them naked.

_No_, she corrected herself again. Both of them naked _and_ pressing their warm flesh into her own _and_ letting her touch them and love them like she couldn't during the day.

In the light of day, they never said that they loved each other and never touched except when alone on the road. And even then, it was only her reaching out and holding their hands.

This was how it had to be and she felt better about the lies she told them then, out of the shadows, then in the dark of the night. Then, when the shadows crept over walls and filled the air with silence, they _trusted _her and held her and touched her as much as they all wanted to.

But now, Fuu tried to push her lies of omission from her head as she was pushed on her back and Mugen's hand delved into the top of her kimono, Jin working on getting it off all together.

She knew, admitted it to _herself_ as freely as she wanted to, that if they knew the truth they wouldn't be with her now, in the way that she wanted them to be.

So Fuu would keep her silence and let them think that she was nineteen instead of the fifteen that she really was.

Because what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.


	3. Wait

**Disclaimer**: Nope, nothing's mine.

**Warning**: Grueling menstrual cycle.

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_Wait_

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Sighing softly, Jin shifted his position as he leaned against the wall outside of the door. They were renting a room this week, had been saving for the last month.

Fuu obviously felt guilty at the cut back of food they all were getting, but neither he, nor Mugen were blind to what she was feeling. They didn't blame her. Her cycle was painful. She cried more during i, then when she'd gotten run through by Mugen's sword, something that spoke to him of how much it hurt.

Jin knew that she didn't want them to see it, but he couldn't help but hear her soft mewing and picture what she looked like. Curled in a ball, no doubt. Sweat streaking down her brow and pooling between her breasts as she wept silently. Long, messy, auburn hair snaking across the futon.

He tightened his hand on his katana. How helpless he felt, once a month. How crippled they were, unable to move on from the town until it all subsided.

Jin didn't notice the white knuckled grip he had, too caught in the torturous thoughts swirling in his head.

He was startled at the _thunk_ of something hitting wood. He glanced down at the crouching Mugen as the wild-haired man hit his head on the wall.

o

_Dammit, when is this thing _over_? _Mugen cursed silently as he knocked his head on the wall. He could hear her crying through the paper door and wanted nothing more than to _make it stop_.

He couldn't stand it. It was driving him crazy!

Studiously ignoring Jin as he glared at the ceiling, Mugen tried to distract himself.

He wondered when she'd get hungry again. Probably not for another couple hours or so, once her stomach stopped cramping and she could move without crying out and sobbing and _mewing_ and-

Dammit!

Distraction: _Not working_.

Mugen wondered when it would be over, again, and was startled out of his contemplation at the slight shuffle coming from inside the room.

o

Taking in another breath, Fuu carefully wound her obi round her middle, leaving it loose. Unwilling to do anything with her hair, she figured she'd ask Jin to pull it back. It really was getting long, draping down her back.

She rubbed her eyes as she walked carefully towards the door. She was ready to leave.

Still, she stopped at the door, shifting her legs to feel the bandages. She wasn't heavy anymore, and the worst of the pain had subsided. She thanked the gods for being merciful this month

Grabbing a hold of the paper screen, Fuu slid it back. She ignored how heavy her limbs felt. Blinking her eyes slowly at the brightness of the hall she stubbornly _refused_ to retreat back into her dark, bloody room.

Jin and Mugen stood there, and she offered a weak smile. Fuu knew that she probably looked like the back end of a horse.

o

Jin sighed silently, as always, thanking the gods that she didn't bleed to death. She looked tired, but still pretty enough, he supposed.

Her hair fell in disarray around her face and Jin noticed the looseness of her obi, but made no comment. If she was ready to go, so was he. But first.

o

Mugen watched quietly as Jin walked behind Fuu.

Knowing what he was going to do didn't make the sting of jealousy any less. But Mugen watched, still as stone, as Jin pulled her hair up into a bun. It was still a little sloppy, but he'd been doing it for months and it was better than the original horsetail, so Mugen had to grudgingly accept that Jin could do it and he couldn't.

Not that he hadn't tried, but that was left untalked about.

Tightening his hand into a fist Mugen burned with the urge to lash out with sword and fist and foot, to fight Jin until one of them lie bleeding, dead in the street.

The sight of pressed lips and slow movements from Fuu stopped him cold.

Mugen knew he couldn't do it, not right now. Maybe after she was feeling better. _Yeah_, Mugen placated himself, that sounded about right.

o

Pulling her bag over her shoulder Fuu took a deep breath and started walking, stepping into the cold, biting winter air. She hurt, but she'd live.

Capturing Jin and Mugen's hands she squeezed reassuringly. She felt a true smile bloom when the gesture was returned.

They'd be okay, they'd make it.

And in the end, wasn't that what mattered?

o

They all thought so.


	4. Age

**Disclaimer**: Nope, still don't own anything.

**Warnings**: Implied underage!relationships.

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_Age_

* * *

Fuu knew what they thought about age, had seen the unveiled disgust in their eyes as they looked at the old men toting around the small, pre-pubescent girls wearing nothing but thin _yukata_.

It hurt her to think about it but they were in a very similar situation.

She was fifteen, while Jin was twenty-five and Mugen was fast approaching twenty-two.

It wasn't that much of a stretch age-wise for _her_, having always expected to marry a much older man.

But she just _knew_ that Jin and Mugen would think differently.

So she didn't tell them. She lied with a straight face to two of the most observant men in Japan, and they had _believed_ her.

And despite the sick twist the thought of her _betraying_ their trust sent to her stomach, she couldn't help but feel a prickle of pride.

After all, it wasn't like there was anyone else alive that could contradict what she said. After the first conversation on age, both men let it lie.

Fuu refused to think that it was cowardice that she didn't _dare_ touch it, even now, months later.

Now, she knew, all she had to worry about was how her body might change. She was already considered a woman; she bled every month and experienced the crippling pain that accompanied it.

Fuu pushed the thoughts from her mind.

For now, she'd keep her little lies.

Truth could come at a later date.


End file.
